Lies And Misunderstandings
by Penelope S Cartwright
Summary: What if you found out someone from your past wasn't dead? What if that someone was the reason you became the man you are today? A very unusual fic and twist.
1. The Man's Eyes

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters except the ones you do not recognize. Please don't sue me as I'm deathly afraid of lawyers and am just a college student trying to get some peace out of writing! **

**Author's Note: Hello Everyone! I've been away for a while but hopefully I'm back with a vengeance! I didn't think I would have another Dr. Lecter story up so soon, but inspiration knocked me over the head (almost literally) so I had to write. Enjoy and let me know what you guys think. I know this story is going to be pushing some limits… **

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**Chapter One: The Man's Eyes**

Dr. Hannibal Lecter was enjoying the Argentinean weather, reading a book on his patio. He owned his own home on Calle San Lucas. The house was the most elegant on the street. Vegetation hid most of it from tourists on the streets but if one were to go through the black rod iron gates, they would peer at an immense house. It was only two stories tall but very wide. It contained 10 rooms, 4 and a half baths, its own Olympic sized swimming pool and guest house. Dr. Lecter, or el Doctor Carerra as he was known, enjoyed his freedom to the fullest extent. He dined at the best restaurants, went to the best operas, mingled with high society, and held his most beautiful possession in his arms every night. Clarice Starling was swimming laps around the pool. It was great exercise and a good substitute to running. She wasn't allowed to run far in the streets since the FBI were still looking for her and the Good Doctor. She wasn't dependent on the drugs the Doctor gave her anymore. She had her personality and will back. Clarice stayed with the Doctor because he made her life paradise. She was Beatrice to his Dante. Or was she the Pilgrim being lead by Virgil? She didn't care. She had left—forsaken—everything and everyone she held dear. That wasn't a lot of people or things. She would never look back. The past was left in the past.

Dr. Lecter watched as she climbed out of the pool. Her dark blond hair looked almost brown in the sunlight. The water dripped enticingly from all the parts of her body. He still remembered the wine and the first time he has tasted her. She toweled herself dry and laid out next to his chair. Dr. Lecter looked down at her from his seat, the corners of his mouth up slightly.

"Are you done so we can leave to _El Castillo?_"

"Yes, I'll be ready in an hour."

He nodded and turned the next page of his book. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Clarice slip into the house. He met her in the foyer. She was dressed comfortably in a two piece suit that was slightly loose in the trousers. Dr. Lecter was immaculate in a suit of his own. He helped her into the Jaguar and drove them to the restaurant.

People were standing outside waiting to get in. The whole place looked packed to capacity. When Dr. Lecter walked inside, however, both he and Clarice were seated right away. Clarice smiled as Dr. Lecter pushed her chair in. The Head Waiter said that a waiter would be with them shortly. Dr. Lecter was only given a menu since he ordered for Clarice. He taught her most of the culinary knowledge that he knew. He picked new dishes for her to try and new wines for her to sip. Clarice scanned the restaurant briefly. She was slightly paranoid that they would be traced here. She knew it wasn't likely but she still checked to see if any undercover agents were in the vicinity. When she was satisfied, she turned back to Dr. Lecter.

"Where are we going tonight, Hannibal?"

He looked up from the menu briefly before he answered.

"El Teatro del Reyes. Placido Domingo is supposed to be on stage tonight."

At that moment, a young waiter walked up to their table.

"Como están, señores? I am Ignacio and I will be your sever this evening. May I start you both off with refreshments or appetizers?"

Dr. Lecter's head had shot up when he heard the young man speak. The young man looked to be about 27 or 29, very light skin, dark hair and spoke with an accent. A _Lithuanian _accent. Apparently he had been staring at the man because he felt Clarice's foot nudge him under the table.

"We're very well this evening, thank you. We would like the best and oldest wine you have. That is all."

Clarice noticed Dr. Lecter seemed unnerved, an unusual sight. He turned back to her when he had finished ordering.

"What is it, Hannibal? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"There's something familiar about that man," the doctor started. "His accent is diffidently Lithuanian. He's much too young to be an acquaintance of mine though."

"Maybe he just moved here? Why don't you ask him where he's from?"

"I will when he comes back with the wine. There's something familiar about him…"

"You have no illegitimate children that I need to know about right?" Clarice said with a grin.

Dr. Lecter looked at her sharply and smirked.

"You will find no bastards in my past. I kept company with very few women."

"Huh uh."

Dr. Lecter cringed at her speech. He could see the challenge in her sapphire eyes. The restaurant was becoming silent with the multitude of people leaving, wanting to be home before night fell. Dusk had fallen and the city of Buenos Aires became illuminated with thousands of lights. The gauchos were prowling the streets at this time of night, looking for any poor _carbon _unlucky to cross their path.

"Here's your wine, senor."

The young man set the wine bottle on the table and placed a stand next to it. The stand held a bucket of ice if they wished to drink the wine chilled. Dr. Lecter noticed he did not meet his eyes or Clarice's.

"What may I get you--."

"Where are you from if I might ask?"

"I am from Vilnius, Lithuania, sir."

"You see I was right, my dear," he said to Clarice.

The Doctor placed their orders. The young waiter still did not look directly at them. He brought them their food and left them in peace.

"He seems scared of us," said Clarice.

"He might have heard my reputation as a harsh critic. I've noticed that he is trying to hide something about his eyes…"

"Maybe he has cataracts and doesn't want you to notice them?"

"I don't think so…"

They passed the dinner in comfortable silence. The food was suburb. They both finished their plates and were ready to enjoy a pleasant night at the Opera. That was until the waiter came back with their bill.

"Thank you, senores, I hope you both have a good night."

He placed the bill on their table and turned to walk away. Dr. Lecter grabbed the man's wrist. He turned to Dr. Lecter and looked into his eyes. The Doctor's eyes inadvertently widened. The eyes that stared back at him were full of caution and had flashed a warning of danger. Dr. Lecter realized the man was not afraid of him.

"I just wanted to thank you, Ignacio," the Doctor lied.

The young man nodded and walked away. Dr. Lecter paid their bill and ushered Clarice out of the restaurant. She knew there was something wrong with him and that they would not be going to the opera that night. In the car, Clarice finally spoke up.

"What's troubling you, Hannibal? Was it the waiter?"

"It was."

He turned to Clarice.

"He had maroon eyes."

_Like mine,_ he thought.


	2. Time With in Thoughts

**Chapter Two: Time With in Thoughts**

Dr. Lecter quickly drove home and tried to clear all the rushing thoughts in his head. Clarice watched him closely but knew not to interrupt. He needed to think the "problem" out. _If there was a problem, _she thought. She didn't think a man with maroon eyes was worth that much trouble thinking about. How many countless others had maroon eyes? But then again, how many countless others had maroon eyes _and _lived near the birth place of the Lecters? Maybe it was a common trait of Lithuanians? Maybe the man had inherited them from the same family ancestry? It was possible. The only thing that Clarice's mind shot down completely was the thought that the waiter was somehow related closely to Dr. Lecter. That was not possible. Dr. Lecter was the only family member to survive. Clarice felt a touch of the green-eyed monster come on… _But he did say he kept company with women even if he said it was a few… _She felt treacherous for even considering that thought. But what if the man was his son? He was certainly around the right age. He had dark hair and a light complexion like Hannibal. And the eyes were similar… No, they were the same. Exactly. That was why Hannibal was so disturbed. Those eyes were frightening.

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They had both made their way up to their bedroom. Clarice washed and changed quickly and settled herself under the covers. Dr. Lecter looked out over the city and stared. His eyes were glassy and his face was even more pale than usual. His dark hair had signs of going silver at the temples. It made him look more distinguished. He sighed and changed for bed.

He couldn't sleep. Clarice was laying half on top of him, her head resting on his bare chest. He could see the rhythmic fall of her chest that said she was sleeping deeply. Her thoughts were undisturbed. Light was coming in from the window. Shadows danced slowly on the ceilings and the walls. Maroon eyes flashed again through the Doctor's mind. Dr. Lecter slid out of bed slowly, hoping Clarice would not awaken. She didn't seem as interested as him in the young man. Dr. Lecter dressed quickly and stepped out of the room and into the large house. He made his way outside and started for the street. The dim streetlamps barely lit the area. The air was crisp with the smell of smoke and alcohol. The Doctor could hear some of the old _gauchos _talking about the "good ole'days" when knife fighting was an event that everyone saw at one time or another. They had their own honor system and would stick to it flawlessly or else. The mixture of Argentinean culture seduced him here. Dr. Lecter passed several porches with young lads strumming guitars and singing softly in Spanish. The lines of an old tango met his ears.

_Adiós muchachos, ya me voy y me resigno… Mi vida termina esta noche… Mi hermana no puede comprender que yo necesita salir esta casa, mi prisión. _

The song spoke too closely on what he was feeling. The past had a strange way of reminiscing about itself. He heard the boy's voice fade off in the distance. A slight wind blew in from the east. He felt the cold. He really felt the cold. It was in his heart that the wind had settled. There were plenty of logical explanations for a young man of Lithuanian birth with maroon eyes to be in Buenos Aires. Dr. Lecter turned left on the Calle de Suarez. His highly sensitive nose picked up the scent of sandalwood with a mixture of vanilla. His eyes saw movement in front of him. A silhouette of a tall figure was walking in front of him. The figure was walking away from him. His eyes lingered on the man and the way he moved. He was graceful and seemed to glide rather than walk. Dr. Lecter shook his head. People are not that graceful. The late hour was starting to weigh down on his sleep deprived brain. When has he felt this tired before? He was aging but still very healthy. He did not wake up in the mornings with pains and aches like other people his age. He didn't look his age. But at this moment, at this hour, he felt it. He gasped at the feeling, the man in front of him blurring slightly. The sensation overwhelmed him. _How can a single moment feel like eternity? _Dr. Lecter's next step faltered. He caught himself before he stumbled. When had he been this unnerved? It angered him. He felt weak. He felt he had no control over the situation. The man's profile in front of him disappeared.

He walked back to the manor. He needed to be some where that made sense. Dr. Lecter knew Clarice had already rationalized the situation in her head. But how can you rationalize an event that was never supposed to take place? There was no possibility of him having a stray family member. He had looked for and found his family tree and located all of his ancestors. They were all six feet under. Every single one. Even his precious sister. Mischa appeared vividly in his mind; her dark glossy hair swinging in the sunlight. Her skin was like porcelain. Nature, herself, was jealous of the beautiful child. Mischa's clear blue eyes stared at him. Suddenly her eyes were full of tears. In his minds eye he could see a young man—no—a monster carry her off, over his shoulder. He would always remember those last moments of her life, of his sanity.

He made it back to his home before dawn. Clarice was still asleep, curled up on her side of the bed.

**Author's Note: Here's the translation of the tango: "Good bye, boys, I'm leaving and am resigned... My life ends this night... My sister cannot understand why I need to leave this house, my prison..." The first part was the beginning of a real tango but the rest I made up since I couldn't remember exactly how it went. **


End file.
